Lessons of the Week

Shopping and Food

I feel like Stephen and I do a good bit of shopping. But the vast majority of it is finding out what we can potentially get. Today we found out there are used clothing spots in 'the market,' as well as lots of seamstresses to make curtains and top sheets (since they don't sell those in stores), there is salsa at lotte mart as well as tortillas, there are 5 pound bags of cheese (or at least close enough to cheese product) for ten dollars at the local restaurant store (at which you can also find cheese sticks and chicken nuggets- however finding an oven is more difficult), there is a sweet indian food place called maya which has lamb curry, and there are 35 cent (350 won) and 500 won ice creams under my work. I do not know how children here are not all obese. I would be lapping up that ice cream with every spare quarter mom gave and a few found pennies from the street.

All this to say, I am starting to feel more comfortable with shopping. And no, that is not a bad thing, this just means I have enough food to start cooking- however much I loath washing dishes. So mad that there are dishes in my sink right now and I only have 2 spoons, one of which is wooden, and both of which are dirty. I think I might have to invest in more utensils rather than was the dishes in a too small sink with no drying space.

So yes, I have salsa, tortillas and cheese. Great success Korea.

And it is about time I found things I can cook, because eating out all the time is so pricey!

Guilt

We walk out of eating at Maya's and there is a man on the street. His eyes look foggy and he is very tiny, maybe only 4 feet tall and hunched over and he is waddling around the street begging for money. He however did have on newish looking pants. But I felt so bad for him. I felt like I should give him something. Everyone kept avoiding his gaze and ignoring him knowing with enough he would just walk by. But that man is a man. He is human. Yes he was begging, and yes he may be trying to scam us to buy his next pack of cigs or a beer, but why must I pretend he doesn't exist and continue in my conversation of where to buy cheap t-shirts that are really hip? It's really quite disgusting. And being told "Just ignore him, he'll go away." sounded so logical and correct; but why does my heart still hurt. I mean none of the Koreans who passed this man took notice of him, he seemed to be cramping their style, an ugly obstacle in their walk along the sidewalk in their bedazzled jeans and polo's with the too big logos and upturned collars. I mean what do I do in that situation? Jesus would have spoken to his heart, touched his life, healed his back or simply shown love. How do I do that without knowing Korean and without giving money? Do I run in the convenience store and buy a snack for him? And why is it that moments later as we passed another man sleeping on cardboard I automatically judged him as an alcoholic and lazy because he was younger and not as ugly as the first elderly man.

I read about my friend Jessica working as a nurse in Bolivia and her seeing death before her eyes, and watching people live in the most dire conditions and have to deal with crime and unbelievable emotional strains with family deaths and stress of life on mountain cliffs, and it feels so foreign. I feel guilty for not fully comprehending, for buying a sweater at the store for 10 dollars and for joyriding on the scooter, worrying that I will crash, or spending 28,000 won on dinner and walking past a beggar, but what has happened to my heart? Am I responsible for this man that Korea has brushed off? Am I to assume that he made his choices and that is the life he chose, that he lost his pride long ago and is a worthless being more akin to the scavenging stray cats than to the good working class citizens of Korea? That is how I feel we treat him.

I am so ill equipped. So worthless as a mouthpiece of Christ's love to that man. God is good. God is Love. God is Just.

God is Just.

I have to trust, that even in my lack of goodwill to that man, the Lord is sustaining his life and loving him more than I ever could show or speak even in perfect Korean. The sins of the world that stain that man, those of him and society against him, they do not change the perfect character of God. Our free will to act in ways contrary of the will of God does not change his goodness. Because the sins of the world continue to stain itself does not change that God is the definition of justice. Some say God couldn't be good because look at the pain in the world, but we are created to be in a relationship with a creator whose heart breaks again and again at his children's choices to disobey and the affects that has had and is having on the rest of his creation, and as we begin to allow Christ's love to transform us, should not our hearts start to break as well? Should not the Jesus inside us start to be let out and start to heal and touch others, breaking this cycle of freewill in the wrong direction?

I clearly have the freewill to ignore, but I want the freewill to love as Jesus did.

A Dream

They made such orderly graves as they fell.

Pristine black and white, without life; without smell.

My mind lied, the images reversed

resurrection not martyred. Preserved.

I snatched up the child her warmth reassuring

with her, I ran into the forest searching

finding only anxiety amidst the crowds

I crumpled, rocking into a tiny mound.

I awoke. Without the warmth. No child found.

It all started with a crash.

Plane after plane felled into the sea

rummaging through wave beaten trash

a small life. Chubby hands, holding history.

Perhaps this poem makes no sense to anyone but myself, but every time I reread it I can see it again. Stumbling upon a beach with debris washing ashore and finding a small girl in the water holding a picture of young people awaiting their untimely fall into dark holes before them; a holocaustal image and still, their figures were lively and hopeful. Almost in rebellion, jumping off the image in resistance against the moments after the photo was inevitably taken. They won, I believed them raised rather than fallen. And as the people around me ran off into the forest I swept the child into my arms and ran into the hills only to fall to the ground with the girl in a feeble attempt to comfort or protect or escape, and then, then I awoke.